


Barely

by wreathed



Category: Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Adultery, Anal Sex, Angst, Bedroom Sex, Cheating, Embarrassment, Friends With Benefits, Hand Jobs, Hotel Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Unhappy Ending, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-09
Updated: 2009-07-09
Packaged: 2017-10-22 16:58:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/240320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wreathed/pseuds/wreathed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes things just don't turn out the way you expect them to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Barely

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by blacktofade.

James chuckles deeply as he starts to run his hand up the leg of Jeremy's jeans. They're sitting on the double bed in James's hotel room together, both a bit pissed.

"Do you want to...?" he asks, palming Jeremy's burgeoning erection.

Jeremy's breath starts as James bravely looks at him straight in the eyes. There's no denying that he's just been propositioned. By James. _James_ has just propositioned _him_.

Jeremy can't actually remember a time when he knew James but didn't want him, although he supposes it must've existed. Way back, when they were first introduced and it would be years before they knew each other well enough for something like _this_ to happen.

"Answer me. Even if it is to say no. But...I've watched you for a while. I've noticed. I don't think you will."

Jeremy carefully presses his lips together for a moment before speaking. "No. I'm not going to say no."

James laughs, and he grins the grin that always makes Jeremy's stomach jolt. For a moment he wonders if James is drunk enough to regret this in the morning, but it's hard to make excuses for _this_ James; this forthright and forthcoming James; this James who is apparently for once not just thinking of everything that could go wrong.

The room is quite warm. Jeremy feels a prickling heat wind outwards from his groin and underarms.

"Go on then," James growls into his ear, daring, closing the gap between them. He starts to undo his own jeans.

It shouldn't be this easy. There should be more consideration, more build-up. More time.

 _Then again_ , Jeremy considers, _isn't eight years long enough_?

James thrusts into Jeremy's hand and moans, red lips parting and Adam's apple bobbing hard. After a while it's clear James isn't going to move to reciprocate, so Jeremy puts his other hand down his own jeans to bring himself off, never taking his eyes off James.

"Always wondered if we'd ever do that," James says quietly afterwards. He rolls over to the other side of the bed and gets up to hunt around on the floor for his boxers. He's doesn't seem worried at all; he's not talking about it, not pleading with Jeremy to _never tell anyone about this, ever_ and Jeremy keeps waiting for it to happen, but instead James just suggests in a casual manner that Jeremy should probably get back to his own bed because it's late and no-one should find them like this in the morning. Jeremy nods dumbly in agreement and leaves. If James isn't initiating a conversation, he certainly isn't bloody going to.

Jeremy doesn't regret it the next day as such, but as soon as he wakes up - still wearing the same jeans, unbuttoned and unzipped - he knows that something will have changed between them and, by extension, them and Richard as well. But day-to-day, nothing different happens, although he wasn't quite sure what he was expecting: Hammond's still there nicking all of his cigarettes and James still pontificates and disagrees with him on all the same points as he used to. Jeremy sometimes thinks he sees James watching him out of the corner of his eye in a way he never used to, but that might only be because he _wants_ James to be looking at him like that.

They still haven't talked about it. Sarah still stays over at James's three times a week, and Jeremy tries not to think about that too much.

It takes several weeks and plenty of Dutch courage for Jeremy to challenge James, on a cast-and-crew pub gathering in London.

"Are we ever doing this again?" Jeremy seethes, his fingers digging into James's shoulders and his body pushing James against the wall of a shady alley just outside the inn. James doesn't answer.

"I want to fuck you," Jeremy mutters, wishing that saying it didn't make him blush. A hot twist of satisfaction rushes through him as he feels James tremble slightly at the statement.

"Really?" James breathes. "We'll see about that." Jeremy tilts his head to kiss him, but James pulls away, grabs Jeremy by the wrist, and hails a taxi.

It's no time at all - in any case, that's what it feels like for Jeremy, whose thoughts alone could take him miles and miles - before they're in James's bedroom and James is above him and holding him down on the bed with his hands on Jeremy's hips. Now Jeremy realises James's intentions, and despite certain concerns he has about being the one getting fucked, he finds with a slight shock that he is more than happy to let James do this to him.

James pulls down Jeremy's jeans, an action momentarily uncomfortable for Jeremy due to his prominent erection, and shoves Jeremy's t-shirt up to his underarms, exposing his chest. One trip to the bedside cabinet and then there's two, three lubed fingers like James has done all of this before. They really should be kissing, Jeremy thinks, but you can't have it all.

As if asking Jeremy if he were sure would be admitting too much or breaking the spell, James just pushes Jeremy's bent legs back and slides in. Everything's slick with lube, but it's still a little rough because Jeremy hasn't done this for a very, very long time. But that's _James's_ face in front of his and it feels bloody good; he moves to meet James's gentle thrusts and grunts in shared pleasure straight after James does.

At least this time James touches Jeremy's cock, telling him to keep his legs held back as he moves one hand to Jeremy's inner thigh and the other to bring Jeremy off with smooth steady strokes. Jeremy's neck arches back from the feel of it and he can't reign in the desperate sounds he's making from the sensations. It's not long before James is hitting him deep inside and running the pad of his thumb across the head of his cock and he's coming all over James's hand. James is face to face with him when that happens; they're still not kissing, but Jeremy knows they shared the same breath when he fell apart, parted desperate lips so close to each others', and the thought alone makes his mouth go dry.

James follows him soon after, coming inside him with one hand sliding against Jeremy's stomach, slick with Jeremy's release.

"Can I stay?" Jeremy asks, before James has even moved away from their embrace.

"Yes, of course," he replies, but doesn't say anything else, just climbs out of his own bed, leaving Jeremy alone.

Jeremy hears him making tea downstairs for half an hour afterwards. When he finally returns, Jeremy takes the easy route out and pretends to be asleep.

* * *

At least things don't stop altogether this time.

James touches him a little more often than he used to whenever they're in comfortable company, but he's still as careful as he's always been with anything that matters, and Jeremy uses that thought as reassurance. The jokes and jibes they've always made about each other have a charge to them now; Jeremy notes that the studio audience used to laugh loudest at the implications he made about James, but now it tends to be James's smirking retorts that are spared the cutting room floor.

After a long day at Dunsfold, James corners Jeremy in the production office portakabin when it's just the two of them.

"Still want to fuck me?" he asks almost politely into Jeremy's ear, managing to look down at Jeremy even though Jeremy's taller, one hand splayed across Jeremy's arse and the other holding him firmly against the wall. Jeremy stares at him dumbly and James presses his body slowly and deliberately into Jeremy's.

"Yes," Jeremy says, barely hearing himself.

"Right," James replies, "good."

Then they're interrupted by a polyphonic version of Bach's _Sonata Number Two_.

"Hello," James says, quickly removing his hand from Jeremy and stepping away. He nods several times as the caller gets across their point quickly and James says nothing else except for, "See you soon then. Bye," before ending the call.

"That was Sarah," he tells Jeremy, although Jeremy barely needs the confirmation. "She's coming over."

"Perhaps we could...here..."

James's eyes dart around the empty room. "No. Not here. Another time perhaps," he says, his head bowed in silent apology. Two jerky movements later and he's shut the flimsy door behind him and left.

Jeremy chain-smokes for the entire drive home.

* * *

Three days later, James rings just as Jeremy finishes replying to the last email in his inbox and is about to switch on the news.

"Come over," he says, like Jeremy lives just across the road.

"Right now?"

"Right now."

Jeremy takes a single, deep breath. "Alright."

After flinging out a quick excuse to Francie and driving all the way from bloody Chipping Norton, Jeremy finally arrives in a frenzy of trepidation and nervous excitement.

When he rings the doorbell he can hear other voices; when James opens the door Sarah and a couple Jeremy knows only vaguely peer at him curiously from James's living room.

James coughs and very quickly leads Jeremy away from the house.

"Unexpected-" he stutters. "Forgot to phone. People - Clive and Melissa...I'm sorry Jez. You're going to have to go. Unless you want to hang about and join us?"

"No, thank you," Jeremy says coldly, the beginnings of arousal fading fast, and he gets straight back in his Mercedes.

On Monday, they're both in meetings at Television Centre.

"Sorry about the other night," James tells him when they run into each other near the men's toilets on the fourth floor. He smiles slightly like everything is alright now and launches into discussing their voiceover session scheduled for the next day. Jeremy smiles back as he listens but feels an involved pang and the whole brief exchange confirms what Jeremy's thought all along - that James has no idea how to deal with this.

Their friendship does continue to function well, at least. It's not like there's much choice about it, not right in the middle of a series and straight after renewing their contracts. They are still a vital two of the three more vital still. They still make each other - for the most part - happier, filling their roles as predictable, constant mates.

And so Jeremy resolves to put the bizarre series of events in their entirety down to a few anomalous decisions and forget about it, but one evening (an otherwise entirely normal evening of two six-packs of beer purchased from the Tesco Metro at the end of James's road and bickering; Richard had left for home less than half an hour ago) James pushes Jeremy right up against James's bedroom wall and Jeremy lets him. Somehow, it's intrinsically hollow, and Jeremy thinks for a moment about stopping, but he's hard and needing this and Jeremy is never one to say no to something he so desperately wants.

From his bedside drawer, James hands over lube and a condom. "Still want to?" he asks, a shy smile in place. Jeremy nods.

As James manoeuvres Jeremy onto his back in the middle of the bed, it seems that James takes it for granted that Jeremy will get hard for him as he's still not touching him more than is necessary - still reserved, still _fucking_ holding back - although at least this time James is completely removing his and Jeremy's clothes (quickly, efficiently).

Kneeling in front of him and slicking his fingers, James reaches behind and prepares himself, and Jeremy's fingers twist in mid-air such is his strong, conscious desire to do it for him. But, he can only watch as James's eyes flutter closed and mouth falls open, his hard cock quivering, and a deep flush runs from his cheeks to his chest. After a while - Jeremy hasn't moved, doesn't touch himself, can't stop watching - James's hands are flat on the bed either side of Jeremy, and James briefly leans forward and rubs himself against Jeremy's stomach, leaving a trail of pre-come there before spreading his legs and carefully lowering himself so that Jeremy is inside him.

They both shudder as James slides so that he is firmly seated in Jeremy's lap. Jeremy grips him tightly as James slowly shifts.

Jeremy looks up at him, prompts him wordlessly, too shocked and aroused to say anything.

"I haven't done this for a while," James says in a low, tight voice. He frowns. "And never like this." Jeremy feels a bolt of inquisitive jealousy shoot through him - who managed it, many years ago? Who had James May beneath them?

"Is it...are you alright?" Jeremy asks somewhat gruffly.

"No, it's OK," James replies, starting to rock his hips. "It's good."

They don't really talk after that. James sets the pace, but falters often; Jeremy keeps his hands on James's hips to keep James where he is. Eventually, Jeremy reaches for James's cock.

It's over quite quickly, intense rather than drawn out. When James thrusts hard just as Jeremy jerks his grasp around the head of James's cock, James comes. He shudders all over, and it's incredible enough to push Jeremy over the edge straight after.

* * *

Bathed in the gentle, low sun that falls over London the next morning and lying next to James in bed, Jeremy realises how awkward and fragile and raw their relationship is now. They're moving towards something both wonderful and frightening; a transition they won't be able to back away from is impending and well within their reach.

"Morning," Jeremy says, seeing James waking up. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah..." James tails off as Jeremy rolls over so he finally has James beneath him. He presses James into the mattress and grins before leaning in to run his tongue along James's jaw line and neck and clavicle.

But, as he runs his hand up James's still-naked thigh, Jeremy makes himself really watch James this time, look firmly at him to try and find what he himself is feeling mirrored in James's eyes. Jeremy doesn't see it.

It is then Jeremy realises his mistake.

"We're sleeping together," Jeremy says uncharacteristically quiet, stopping, but still hovering above James in the same position. "Things are going to get complicated, but that doesn't mean we can't-"

Before he's finished his sentence, James's eyes grow wide in panic and he sits up; instinctively, Jeremy moves back to the other side of the bed. "We've fucked a couple of times," James says with a mirthless laugh. "I mean, we can't be...there's your family. And Sarah."

"But-"

"I'm sorry," James continues, "I- I don't think we can be co-workers and friends like we are _and_ do this. I can't be that close to someone."

"OK," Jeremy replies, biting back frustration. "We'll just...OK. Fuck." He doesn't let himself admit anything. He doesn't want to look any more of a fool.

Jeremy can't even bring himself to feel loss because anything tangible they had, anything describable, was momentary, barely there. It's never going to completely disappear, he realises now, this strange tension between them. For years he'd thought an eventual affair was the inevitable conclusion, but as it turns out, that's not the solution either. That's not the ending.

"Hammond's going to piss himself when he's sees that Chevy tomorrow," James says as if nothing ever happened, and things feel the same as they always have except Jeremy knows now what could have been and it isn't what he wants.


End file.
